


keep me holding on

by ontheoppositeside



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Possessive Behavior, a little bit of angst, but there are also happy feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ontheoppositeside/pseuds/ontheoppositeside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty, brown eyes. Long lashes, Red, chapped lips. Smile as bright as the sun—maybe brighter. Finger tips caress, leaving a trail of fire where they touch, wanting more but knowing everything is limited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep me holding on

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "So Contagious" by Accepted.
> 
> Hey, you should know this is my first time writing Cake and I hope it reads well??? I basically wrote it because I think there is a deep need for more Cake fics and here I am doing my share. Lol. Anything that you think should be edited or tags that should be added, let me know. Also it should be noted that I am American so I do not know any Australian word usage and I use "high school" because they mention it in "Out of My Limit".

_Pretty, brown eyes. Long lashes, Red, chapped lips. Smile as bright as the sun—maybe brighter. Finger tips caress, leaving a trail of fire where they touch, wanting more but knowing everything is limited._

 

**He won’t ever want to be with you.**

 

_Flashes of demanding, open-mouth kisses. Gripping hands that bruise where they hold. Hands are pushed away, and someone screams, “Stop.”_

 

Luke sits up suddenly, dragging a hand through his hair. His chest feels tight, breaths come out in short gasps. He hates the damn tightness in his chest. Always the damn tightness. He brings a hand to his chest to massage it. He inhales and exhales slowly--his lungs filling up and empting helps make the anxiety that is always near evaporate.

Luke is alone in his bed but there is still an indentation next to him, a reminder that (yes!) there was another person lying next to him. He presses his hand against the spot but it’s cold. He frowns and listens. Luke makes out the sound of the television coming from the living room.

He doesn’t understand why Calum didn’t wake him. He’s told Calum one-to-many times that he hates waking up without him in his arms, being able to nestle his nose into his neck and, despite the morning breath, to kiss those lips that he fantasized so long about. It’s still sometimes hard to believe that Calum is with him and he, Luke Hemmings, has the only right to kiss Calum's pouty lips.

 

_“Why didn’t you ever talk to me when we were in high school?”_

_“You could have spoken to me.” His voice rises._

_Calum raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you wanted to be my friend. I wouldn’t have risked my friendship with Michael for someone I didn’t know.”_

‘Risk a friendship?' _Luke thinks. He wants to roll his eyes._ Why does it always come down to Michael?

 

As he comes into the living room, he can’t truthfuly say he wasn’t expecting it. He looks at the time on his phone and it reads “9:00 AM”. He wants to yell, demand an explanation but he can’t. He can’t throw Michael out, even if sometimes, he wishes he had never become friends with him. _But, if he had never become friends with Michael,_ a little voice reminds him, _then you and Calum would be nothing._

 

_“Risk a friendship?” He wants to ask Calum. “Why would talking to me risk your friendship with Michael?” But he doesn’t because Calum looks ready for a fight, to finally push him away, and never look back. Calum wears a beanie and a small, white t-shirt that tightens considerably when he crosses his arms. He's still looks hot. Arms crossed, mouth in a line, eyes cold. Luke hates how he can't help finding Calum attractive even when he's feels the beginning of an end. Calum looks ready to push him away for Michael. He sometimes wonders who is more important to Calum: Michael or himself. This is a question he knows he really doesn't want answered._

_Luke can’t (read: won’t!) risk his relationship with questions that only belong in the past._

 

They haven’t heard him enter the living room, too engrossed with the TV show on the screen. He glances at it but doesn’t really see it—the screen a blur. His attention is focused on the people on the sofa. Calum is seated in between Michael legs, back pressed against Michael’s chest. Michael’s arms are wrapped around Calum’s waist, hands lying on Calum’s tummy. There is no space between them.

A bucket of cold water spilled over him would feel less painful in this moment.

_Idiot._

“Hey Mikey!” He says, with as much energy as he can muster, as he sits on the only other sofa in the room. (It’s at an angle from the other one.)

Calum looks at him, eyes stuck to him as he spreads ontop of the sofa. He arranges his long body in a way that mimics Calum and Michael—long legs stretched, feet hanging off the edge off the arm rest and reclines against the other. Calum smiles at him once Luke's eyes meet his but turns back to watch the television. He doesn’t ask for his morning kiss. Luke swallows his demand for one.

Michael glances at him once he is seated and smirks, "Hey."

“Why are you up so early?” He asks Michael, but Calum answers him instead without turning away from the screen.

“I came to kitchen for a glass of water and Mikey was already here watching this,” he motions at the TV show with his head “He asked me if I wanted to watch with him. Since I was already more awake than asleep I stayed.” After a pause, he adds,"I didn't want to wake you. We got in late last night."

Luke feels the tightness coming back, appearing like fog. By gripping his thighs, he fights the urge to get up and pull Calum out of Michael’s arms, to tell him again that he doesn't mind be woken up. He always wants to be there for him. Why won't Calum understand? The want is too big to be silenced, and his legs slide off the sofa in one swift motion, like a reflex. He stops before standing, but Michael glances at him one more time, having heard the slide of movement. There is no smirk on his face.

“Are you going somewhere?” Michael says, voice soft, eyes boring into his. Luke witnesses his grip on Calum tightening. The hold must be uncomfortable because Calum squeaks in response and brings his hands on top of Michael’s to pry them off.

“What are you—” His voice cuts off as Michael rubs the side of his face against Calum’s hair and then noses his ear. Calum squirms, but as Michael murmurs, “Sorry," and he loosens his hold, Calum relaxes once more and settles against him.

While witnessing this, Luke's disbelief grows, but as Calum remains, sick is all Luke feels. Enough! _'Frienship? Friendship?! Luke this isn’t how friends act! Wake up!'_ Aleisha once told him, when he shared wanting to be friends with Calum. He doesn't remember why she did or why she cared, but he hears her now.

“I'm fine.” Calum says, before Luke can do anything. And then he is turning to Luke with question in his eyes because Luke is on his feet. When did he stand up? As Calum continues to look at him, the words stick in his mouth, caught by his tongue, and he swallows them even as they press down on his heart. Heavy, heavy, _heavy_.

He has always been broken, being alone can do that--fame doesn't erase any of the cracks. He stares into Calum’s pretty, bottomless eyes and smiles. Smiles because Calum's attention is everything he ever wanted when he was little, in primary school. Because even now, even when Calum's attention should be solely his, even when Calum breaks him; he is also the reason that Luke can smile without all that weight pressing down on it.

“I’m going to shower.” He finally says, putting in a box somewhere in the bottom of his heart, everything he doesn’t like about Michael and Calum's friendship. One day, sooner than he wants, he'll open that box and Calum and him will have a talk where his question will be answered. 

Calum's eyes widen, relief spreading across his face in a small smile. Relief? Maybe the answer to his question will be him. 

Calum stands up, Michael’s arms dropping from his waist. If Michael resists Calum's decision, Calum doesn't acknowledge him. Calum walks to Luke with a small frown but a smile at the corner of his lips. He stops in front of Luke about a breath away. Despite everything, Calum is still a few of inches shorter. 

Calum’s kiss tastes like mint and is liquid warmth, yearning to fill in every crack and fix every tear that Luke has acquired. He buries his nose in Calum’s hair and breathes without difficulty. 

Luke tightens his arms around Calum and feels Calum's lips press against his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh! I've gotten some kudos!!! Thank you soo much!!!


End file.
